


The Door Wide Open

by sherlockpond



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Anger Management, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dinner Party, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, F/M, Families of Choice, Found Family, Friendship, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockpond/pseuds/sherlockpond
Summary: Torchwood incurs a tough life on its field operatives. They deserve times where they feel like they need to be vulnerable in front of each other.[6 times the team were emotionally honest with one another - set during various points of S1 and S2]
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	The Door Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

> So straight off the bat I'd like to say a huge thank you to Nik (princessoftheworlds) and Mal who blitzed this about a month ago and just utterly gave me their time and were fabulous humans.
> 
> I'm not going to lie, it's been a weird few weeks, hence why this has taken so long - and it's got to the point where I'd rather this go out into the world rather than wait for me to finish it because that might never happen.
> 
> So please enjoy some snippets of softness, I feel like the TV show didn't give us enough of these moments.
> 
> Title comes from the quote: 
> 
> "We're all living in cages with the door wide open,"
> 
> Big love to you all x

1.

It’s late, or very early, Jack doesn’t really know, when he’s awoken by a noise. He pokes his head out from his room under the Hub, and through a crack in the office door he sees a figure sitting at Tosh’s desk. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the light to realise it’s Tosh herself, body hunched, hand covering her eyes, shoulders shaking haphazardly.

He’s a second from hauling himself up when he hears a voice, a voice that is definitely not Toshiko’s. 

Deeper, slower, calm.

The careful silhouette of Ianto appears from the Autopsy Room; he offers a box to Tosh who audibly sniffs and reaches for it, pulling out a handful of tissues. Jack watches as Tosh wipes her eyes as Ianto places a soothing hand on her shoulder; Jack smiles to himself, a small, knowing smile because he can’t imagine Ianto saying a single word that wasn’t comforting or helpful. 

Ianto draws up Owen’s wheeled chair from the opposite desk and takes a seat next to Tosh. They exchange a few words; he swears he hears Tosh let out a wet laugh, followed by another sniff. Jack lets them have their moment and ducks back under into his bunker. He stays awake long enough to hear the cog move out and then back into place.

Jack creeps out of his bunker, hope blooming in his chest as he spots the familiar figure of Ianto pulling on his coat.

“Is she okay?” Jack asks quietly, leaning up against his office door.

Ianto doesn’t jump, and Jack would be impressed if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind that Ianto may constantly be on edge.

“She’ll be alright,” Ianto replies, turning to face Jack; he looks tired.

A silence settles between them. Jack looks back at the entrance to his bunker and then back at Ianto.

“It’s cold tonight,” Jack says quietly, watching Ianto carefully.

A small smile settles on Ianto’s lips; his eyes twinkle a little behind exhaustion.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Ianto quips, quirking an eyebrow.

“ _Very_ cold,” Jack presses.

Ianto throws Jack an unimpressed look and pulls his satchel onto his shoulder. “Either ask me properly, or I’m going home to collapse into _my own_ bed,”

Jack sighs and admits defeat. “Stay with me.”

Ianto lets his bag drop to the floor and tugs his coat off, tossing it on the sofa. He smiles, and Jack holds out a hand. 

Ianto takes it and allows himself to be led to the bunker.

“All you ever have to do is ask, Jack.”

* * *

2.

Owen’s just about to leave when he hears it. A sob. A short, sharp, gut-wrenching sob coming from the vaults.

There’s a thump, like a body hitting a wall, and before Owen realises it, he’s hurrying down towards the noise. It gets louder, repetitive, along with more painful sobs. It’s only as Owen gets closer that he hears the familiar sound of chains rattling. Rounding the corner, he sees something completely unexpected.

Ianto stands in one of the empty cells, a large, used boxing punch bag shuddering with every hit. There’s sweat across his forehead, and his t-shirt is dark with dampness. He strikes the bag with powerful effort, and it shakes as he lets out another cry. It’s only then that Owen sees there’s tears mixing with the sweat running down his face.

Owen knows he should turn, but there’s something about seeing Ianto completely unlike his usual prim exterior. He lands a hard punch and then howls as his wrist flattens against the bag. Ianto hisses buckles as pain shoots up his arm; it’s tangible enough for Owen to feel a twinge of sympathy. Ianto stumbles back and sits on the concrete bed in the corner and pants, head back against cold stone. He reaches for the wraps around his newly injured hand and slowly unwinds, teeth clenched as the material unspools. It’s at this point Owen decides enough is enough, and he makes his presence known.

“You know, you’re supposed to wear proper gloves if you’re going to beat it _to death_ ,” Owen says, stepping into the cell.

Ianto grimaces and drops his aching hand. “I’m really not in the mood.”

Owen persists and points to Ianto’s wrist. “Thought you might need a hand.”

“ _Hilarious_.”

Owen chuckles and sits in the empty space next to Ianto; he sniffs loudly. “You stink.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Sighing, Owen beckons Ianto’s injured hand. “Let's have a look.”

Ianto reluctantly holds out his half-unwrapped hand and lets Owen inspect it. He fiddles with a few fingers, tests out the flexibility of the wrist and comes to a conclusion quite quickly when Ianto nearly punches him in pain.

“Dislocated,” Owen surmises grimly. “Need to take the wrapping off to reset it.”

Owen tries to unwind the cloth as gently as he can; Ianto wrinkles his nose in pain as the wrap eventually falls to the floor.

“This is going to hurt,” he warns, taking Ianto’s wrist in one hand and his palm in the other.

Ianto nods, wincing already. 

“Take a breath,” Owen says.

Ianto inhales and Owen quickly puts the wrist back in place; Ianto lets out a guttural shout through bared teeth.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Ianto spits, squeezing his newly uninjured hand open and closed. 

Chuckling, Owen gets to his feet and goes to exit the cell, something stops him - he lets out a breath.

“Y’know , I couldn’t help noticing...you seemed a little...upset,” - Owen clears his throat - “before you nearly broke your wrist.”

Ianto’s eyes flick to him, then down at his wrist. “It’s nothing,”

“Yeah, I thought you might say that,” - Owen leans up against the cell door - “but I’m serious, Ianto. You sounded _miserable_.”

Ianto looks at him, his face unreadable.

“As much as I recommend exercise for getting your frustration out, sometimes it’s good... to talk,” Owen finishes, a wary smile on his face. “And I know, I know - I act like a dickhead. But I’m still a doctor - anything you say, it’ll just be between you and me,”

Ianto says nothing, just blinks a few times.

“Just a thought,” Owen says, feeling a little embarrassed - he turns to leave.

“Owen.”

Looking back, Owen sees Ianto’s eyes are inquisitive.

“Jack mentioned that you - -” Ianto takes a breath. “You didn’t get on with your Mum.”

Owen feels his chest ache a little, but he shrugs. “Some people who have children aren’t ever capable of being parents.”

Ianto lets out a bitter laugh; Owen moves back over to him and sits down.

“I tell you what: I’ll do a question for a question,” Owen says lightly.

Ianto nods shortly. “Alright.”

“You ask first,” Owen prompts.

Ianto reaches for a black hoodie in the corner of the cell and pulls it over his head; he settles down, and the atmosphere changes.

“Did she ever hit you?” Ianto asks quietly.

“A few times. I used to think I deserved it - but I was just a kid. Still learning. No kid deserves to be scared shitless by their own parents,” Owen replies, turning to look at Ianto.

Ianto considers this and seems satisfied; he breaks the gaze and looks distantly at the floor.

“Do you blame yourself?” Owen asks carefully.

The younger man looks up and frowns. “Some days,” he says quietly, drifting off.

Owen nods, allows Ianto to take his time.

“Some days…” Ianto shakes his head a little and starts again. “Some days it’s hard to think of anything else. When I’m writing up a report after you’ve all gone home...or down in the archives - I can _feel_ _him_ in the room.” Ianto swallows thickly. “Sometimes I can smell the stench of stale alcohol, the same way the living room smelt when I was a kid.”

Ianto sighs, holds his head in his hands.

“I try not to let it affect me. Affect how _I work_. But some days I feel like I’m drowning in old memories.”

He sniffs and then looks expectantly at Owen.

“My turn,” he says, pausing for a second. “When did you leave home?”

Owen grins ironically. “Sixteen. It was on my birthday. I came home from school to my stuff packed into two rucksacks. It was mutual, more than anything else.” He pauses for a second and lets out a bitter laugh. “Still the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”

Ianto looks shocked for a few seconds, then collects himself.

Owen shrugs. “I think we’d both had enough; it was a saving grace, really. We’d have ended up killing each other otherwise.”

Still not looking overly convinced, Ianto mulls over Owen’s words.

“What about you?”

Ianto snorts. “Eighteen. Applied to uni, got in, then just as I moved down my dad went missing, well, he left a note on the kitchen table saying he was leaving. Mum found an email on the family computer with the receipt for train tickets to London. So I had to drop out and spend all my time working or trying to find him _or_ trying to make him stay put at the flat I was scraping the rent together for.”

“Did he ever, you know... _do anything_?” Owen asks.

“Every now and again. I remember he pushed me too hard on the swings once; I can still remember how my stomach felt like it was going to drop out of me as I fell. Landed on my leg. Broke it clean.”

Now Owen looks remotely horrified.

“Another kid’s parent called an ambulance; _god,_ the pain was so intense. Dad knew he’d done something wrong; he tried to get me to stand up ,but _I just couldn’t._ I just lay there until the paramedics arrived. They took us to hospital; my Dad looked terrified - that’s the only time I’ve ever seen him look scared. The police asked a few questions; my sister was adamant that it was all an accident - the thing is...it’s not like he didn’t hit us. Mum turned up and kept saying ‘You don’t want to get your Dad into trouble, do you?’ I knew parents weren’t supposed to hit their kids, but I stayed quiet. Didn’t say a word. They all assumed I was crying from the pain of a broken leg.”

They both dwell into silence, letting out long breaths that fill the empty cell.

“Life’s shit,” Owen says, “but being here makes it a little better.”

Ianto nods wordlessly.

“Do you and Jack talk about this stuff?” Owen asks.

“Sometimes,” Ianto pauses, pulling at a loose thread on his hoodie cuff, “but his life seems so long; he’s done so much. It’s hard not to feel like _my life_ pales in comparison to someone who can’t die. He’s seen so much.”

“Doesn’t make your experiences worth less than his,” Owen replies quickly. “If anything, it might make him better at giving out advice. Don’t tell him I said that, though.” He pokes Ianto with his elbow, and the younger man cracks a smile.

“He really cares about you, you know. We can all see it.”

Ianto’s gaze is still fixed on the hem of his sleeve. “I know.”

They lull back into silence, and Owen senses the moment’s over, he slaps a hand on his knee to break the tension.

“Come on, let’s head back upstairs - how's the hand feeling?” 

Ianto flexes it and a little pain crosses his face. “Sore.”

“Sounds about right. I’ll give it another once over and make sure you haven’t done any lasting damage.”

Owen gets to his feet first and walks into the cell corridor; Ianto follows and they make their way to the door.

“Uh.. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone we had this conversation. Don’t want them all to think I’ve gone soft.”

Ianto chuckles wryly as they ascend the stairs.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

* * *

  
  


3.

Not all the monsters are aliens. Sometimes they’re people.

Gwen swallows as she turns the key and pushes the door to her flat open, she’s immediately hit with the reassuring smell of bolognese wafting through from the kitchen.

“That you?” calls Rhys’ voice.

“Yeah,” Gwen calls back, trying to keep herself together.

She ambles into the front room and pulls off her bag then her coat and dumps it over the arm of the sofa.

“Good day?” Rhys asks, stirring a pan which Gwen assumes is full of beef, onions and seasoned tomato sauce - her stomach rumbles.

“Not really,”

Rhys looks up at her.

“Bloody hell, you look knackered,” he says moving the pan off the hob and onto a chopping board, he moves over to her “c’mere,”

He pulls Gwen into his arms and she feels herself unspool, all the pent-up emotions spill over form as hot tears in her eyes, quickly rolling down her cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it? I haven’t put the pasta on yet,”

Gwen shakes her head in the crook of his neck. Rhys sighs but doesn’t persist, gently rocking them both, an arm moving reassuringly up and down her back.

“Bad day then?”

Gwen nods “Bad day,” she whispers, pressing her face into his t-shirt.

They migrate to the sofa, Rhys switches off the hob and Gwen waits until he’s seated before settling down with her head in his lap, she tugs at the threadbare blanket over the back of the sofa and wraps herself in it. Once she’s settled, Rhys’ fingers gently brush through her hair.

“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen,” Gwen says quietly.

Rhys doesn’t press her, just lets her thought wander.

“People can be just as cruel as any alien,” she says numbly “I thought being in the police would have prepared me - but it turns out that cruelty is a emotion every living thing has,”

“You’re okay now,” Rhys says softly.

Gwen reaches for the hair gently petting her hair and threads her fingers through his - clasps firmly.

“I know, sweetheart,” she says, her voice watery “but it doesn’t make what I’ve seen go away,”

Rhys stays quiet again and Gwen lets out a shaky breath, they like that for a few minutes.

“Tell you what,” Rhys says carefully “I’ll go run a bath for you, yeah?”

Gwen nods and sniffs “That sounds good,”

“Right, you go get ready, I’ll dig out some candles and pour you a glass of wine. I’ll put the pasta on in an hour, that’ll give you enough time to put your pyjamas on, too,”

Gwen props herself up so she can look him in the eye. She reaches out and puts a hand on the side of his face.

“What did I do to deserve you?” she says with a small smile, tears still fresh on her face.

Rhys chuckles “No idea, but whatever it was, it must have been bloody good. Now go on, I’ll get the bath going - I think I even saw a bottle of Radox in the cupboard,”

“Now you’re just spoiling me,” Gwen teases, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve.

Rhys laughs softly and heads to the bathroom.  
  


* * *

4.

For all intents and purposes, it’s probably the worst Friday Tosh has ever experienced - including that time Owen accidentally set loose all the Weevil’s in the lower floors by accident.

She dips out of the room from where she’s been overseeing instructing several IT ‘specialists’ on how to swiftly delete several hundred internal images of an alien that had ended up in the reception of their office building and subsequently been photographed by several bystanders.

She needs a break.

The rest of the team are trying to wrangle the alien somewhere near Butetown, she’s put herself in charge of premature clean-up in the hopes that she might get home before midnight.

Tosh looks over the mezzanine and towards the reception, still buzzing with police taking witness statements. 

_Retcon_ . Tosh thinks grimly _yet another job to add to the list._

She sighs and spots a disabled toilet, desperate for a little peace. She takes the handle and pulls.

“Bloody hell!”

Tosh lets out a small shriek as she’s faced with PC Andy doing up his trousers. Thankfully there’s nothing _visible_. One of her hands automatically flies to cover her eyes.

“Andy!” she says, exasperatedly “ever heard of a lock?”

Andy finishes his buckle “I _thought_ I locked it.” he replies “it’s safe, by the way. Nothing to see,”

Tosh peeks through a few fingers and then brings her hand away from her face.

“Thought you lot had gone,” Andy says, turning on the tap and quickly washing his hands.

“The others have, I thought I’d start on getting and any pictures deleted,” Tosh explains “they don’t need me right now,”

Andy nods and puts his hands under the dryer.

He’s just about to step out when he turns to face her.

“Anything I can do to help?” he offers with a hopeful smile.

Tosh takes a second “If you could get the names of all the police officers involved, we’ll need to make sure they don’t go starting conspiracy theories about alien life,”

“Yeah, that won’t be a problem,” Andy replies, his hopeful smile turning uneasy.

He’s about to leave again, but stops.

“Toshiko, can I ask you something?”

Tosh looks a little hesitant “Sure,”

“Have you ever made _me_ forget?” 

Tosh smiles, shakes her head “Not that I’m aware of, no,”

Andy looks a little reassured “Only, I don’t really get to see the same stuff you do - I’d like to have a choice if it ever came to it. Gwen knows I won’t go blabbing. I think what you guys do is so... _cool_. I’d rather remember, if I get a choice,”

Tosh looks at him, uniform pristine, face looking subtly hopeful.

“I doubt Gwen would let us, but I’ll keep that in mind,”

“Good. Thanks. I mean your job’s bonkers, but I’d like to keep the bits that I get to be a part of - -,”

Tosh nods “- - I understand,”

“You do?” Andy asks skeptically.

“Yeah. It’s a privilege - being part of... the bigger picture,” 

Andy looks at her, Tosh thinks the emotion on his face is akin to being a little impressed by her honesty.

“Oh,” he says “great. Good.”

They stand for a few seconds, Tosh looks around “I need to use the loo, Andy,”

Andy shakes himself “Bugger. Yeah. Of course,” he nearly trips over his feet as he hurriedly tries to leave.

Tosh chuckles to herself and pulls the door, before _properly_ locking it.

 _He is a_ little _adorable,_ she thinks idly to herself.

* * *

  
  


5.

It was Gwen’s idea to invite everyone over for dinner. Owen tries to worm out of it, but Gwen threatens him with all her paperwork for the rest of the month. Tosh gratefully accepts and presents her hosts with two bottles of prosecco on her arrival. Jack and Ianto appear together after a day off (but still dressed as though ready for work), Ianto’s face flushes a little as the penny drops on Rhys face when he opens the front door of the flat to Jack pressing a quick kiss to the younger man’s lips.

Dinner is served, it’s just lasagne - nothing too special. They sit and drink red wine, and ten minutes into their meal Gwen leaps up and opens the oven to some well-done garlic bread that had been forgotten. Some is salvageable and they share out the least charred parts between the party. Jack’s in good form and the room is full of roaring laughter as he regales stories that sound impossible to the others ears. Ianto quips in a few times with razor sharp anecdotes, Tosh adds a few of her own adventures and Owen let’s his sarcasm flow, Gwen sits and enjoys the way her friends seem to open up in front of her - and for a little while things don’t feel so bad. She swears she sees Ianto swat away Jack’s hand under the table, and occasionally she sees Tosh making eyes at Owen, but Gwen knows Tosh doesn’t see when Owen finishes telling a story how he carefully looks to Tosh first to see her reaction. It’s a dynamic that shouldn’t work, their team, but they sit around a table and share dinner together and for the first time in an age, they feel like normal people.

By the end of the night they’re all full of food and rather worse for wear (except for Jack who seems to have held his alcohol quite well). Tosh is first to fall asleep on the sofa - her head propped up on her hand, followed by Gwen who wakes up after a few minutes and excuses herself to bed.

Rhys pulls out the sofa bed and manages to procure a blow-up mattress from the airing cupboard. He finds some bedding, a few pillows and watches as a very tired Ianto finally collapses onto the sofa bed after helping a very tired Tosh and drowsy Owen with the inflatable one.

Jack appears from the bathroom and finds Rhys overlooking the carnage of the front room. Ianto’s star-fished across the sofa-bed completely wiped, Tosh sleeps soundly next to Owen on the air mattress. Jack’s heart clenches a little at the image. Rhys sees him looking and smiles.

“That’s a good group of people you got there, Jack,” he says.

Jack nods, watching a little bit of drool seep from Ianto’s mouth into the pillow.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly.

“I don’t mean to cross a line,” Rhys starts and Jack turns to look at him “but sometimes you come across like you’ve got the burden of the universe on your shoulders,”

Jack remains silent.

“I think you could ask any of one of them to do something, anything, and they wouldn’t question you, not really.” Rhys pauses “that’s real trust, that is,”

Jack’s gaze moves to Owen and Tosh, they’ve shifted slightly and now are _almost_ spooning. He smiles, wishing one of them would just make a move.

“I’ve met a lot of people, Rhys,” Jack admits “I’d do anything for my team.”

Rhys tilts his head, as if checking the authenticity of his words. He looks convinced after a few seconds and nods to himself.

“You’re a great leader, Jack.” 

Jack scoffs and shakes his head self-deprecatingly “No,”

“I’m not joking. You have to make tough decisions, regardless of the consequences. I don’t know many people who could do that and manage to get up each day,”

“It’s a struggle sometimes,”

Rhys shrugs “Isn’t everything? Try not to be too hard on yourself, Jack, I know they all respect you too much for that,”

Now Jack looks at Rhys, a little surprised. Rhys holds up his hands.

“Hey, just because I work in transport, it doesn’t mean I don’t see things,” Rhys says sarcastically and with a smile “I’m a very perceptive person,”

Jack laughs “I never doubted you, Rhys,”

Fatigue washes over Jack and the prospect of joining Ianto in bed starts to ache in his chest, he yawns and stretches aching shoulders.

“I’ll let you get to bed,” Rhys says, understandingly “see you in the morning,”

“Night, Rhys,” Jack replies, watching him disappear into the bedroom.

Jack pulls off his clothes until he’s just in his white shirt and boxers before slipping under the covers and joining Ianto.

Feeling the bed dip, Ianto instinctively seeks out the added warmth of Jack and the older man lets out a little laugh as their legs tangle together. He presses a kiss to Ianto’s head, who instinctively curls into the sensation, Jack makes a mental note to go out and find some ibuprofen for the team first thing in the morning.

He falls asleep more content than he has in a long time.

* * *

  
  
  


6.

Ianto wakes to the sound of muffled gasps.

Opening his eyes he sees, in the low light of his bedroom, Jack shaking on the other side of the bed.

“Jack,” he says, reaching out and gently shaking his shoulder “ _Jack_ ,”

The older man lets out a pant which turns raw and gutteral at the back of his throat.

“Jack, wake up,” Ianto says, his pulse beginning to pick up with panic.

It’s never nice to get woken like this.

Jack’s eyes open suddenly and Ianto all at once has a armful of Jack, his hands shaking as they grip at Ianto’s sleep worn t-shirt.

“Same one?” Ianto asks gently.

Jack swallows “Yeah,” he says, deeply inhaling the scent of Ianto’s bed warm skin, using it to ground him.

It takes a couple of minutes for Jack to relax, Ianto keeps running a reassuring hand up and down his back. He knows that Jack’s aware that he’s safe, so he lets the nightmare fade into the silence of the early morning.

Jack pulls back, he still looks shaken. Ianto cups his cheek, and Jack leans into the hand, his eyes closing at the contact. Ianto presses a kiss to his forehead. Something he’d never really did until Jack.

“Do you want me to make some tea? Might be able to get some more sleep once we’ve both calmed down a little,”

Jack nods gratefully “Sound good,”

Ianto lets his hand drop and presses another kiss to his cheek before he swings his legs out of bed and pulls on an old hoodie. Ianto grabs a spare jumper from his wardrobe and throws it onto the bed.

“Don’t get cold,”

Smiling appreciatively, Jack pulls it on and follows him.

Ianto fills up the kettle and switches it on, the action sounding loud in the quiet of the kitchen. He grabs two mugs from the mug tree next to the toaster and puts a teabag in each. Jack places the milk from the fridge next to the mugs and wraps his arms around Ianto from behind, nosing at the younger man’s neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

Ianto tuts “Nothing to thank,”

The kettle clicks off and Jack releases Ianto long enough to make two cups of steaming tea. He hands one to Jack and they pad quietly back into the bedroom and pull the duvet up to their waists whilst they sit against the headboard.

“You know if you ever want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen,” Ianto says after a minute.

“I know,” Jack says, following with nothing else.

Ianto sighs “You trust me, don’t you?”

Jack rolls his eyes, tired “ _Of course_ ,”

“Good,” Ianto replies simply “sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,”

Inhaling deeply, Jack takes a moment to gather his thoughts “Ianto, the things I dream about. The things I’ve _seen_ . Terrible, traumatic things. Why would I want _you_ to have to hear about them?”

Ianto bites his lip and thinks properly before replying “We’ve all seen shit, Jack. At this point I’m not sure if there’s anything left that would shock me. I’ve seen mutilated bodies, bodies that have been cannibalised, car crashes, ghosts. Do you really think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? I care about you, Jack. I want to share some of that burden you seem intent of carrying by yourself,” 

Ianto finishes and takes a long sip of his tea.

“You’re sure?” Jack says darkly.

Ianto nods in the half-light.

Jack looks a little lost “I don’t really know where to start,” 

“Where did it happen, the thing that causes the nightmares?”

“The worst one happened on my home world.” Jack begins “I was just a kid.”

“What happened?”

Jack sighs “When I was thirteen the settlement I was living in was first invaded. Couldn’t have been more than a thousand people living on this precipice that looked out across the sea. But because we were such a small settlement after they’d raided it once, they left us alone. Not worth the effort, I assume. They were horrible - worse than any creature I’d ever seen before. We could hear them before they arrived, their howls were so loud they travelled on the wind. It gave us enough time to take cover. We thought they’d fly over, leave us alone. Then one day they came out of nowhere. And they didn’t fly over, like they normally did,”

Ianto listens intently, watching as an array of emotions crosses Jack’s face: sadness, trepidation followed by guilt.

“They flew into the town and started attacking. I’ve never seen anything like it. Merciless slaughter, hundreds of people killed outside their homes. Women, children, men - bodies strewn as far as I could see.” Jack inhales sharply “I remember running home and…,” 

His face goes stricken with horror and Ianto takes Jack’s tea from his hands, placing it neatly on one of the bedside tables, atop of a coaster, then does the same for his own.

“Jack?” he says, looking intently at the other man.

Jack chokes, willing fresh tears away and failing.

“My dad…,” he gasps.

Ianto’s chest goes tight as the realisation hits him “ _No_ ,”

Jack nods and buries his face in his hands, Ianto wants to reach out but Jack wipes the back of his hand under his eyes and sniffs loudly.

“You don’t have to - -” Ianto tries to say but Jack cuts across him.

“I _want_ you to know,” Jack says firmly “I’ve wanted to tell you you for so long,”

He coughs and clears his throat before restarting “When I got home I found my dad lying by the front door. I thought there might be something I could do...but he was already gone,”

Ianto takes Jack’s hand and squeezes firmly, reassuringly.

Jack swallows thickly “My mom came out when she heard me, saw me next to my dad and it just felt like the world stopped. In one moment, one action, we lost three quarters of our village including my dad. Do you know what the worst part was?”

Ianto shakes his head, enraptured.

“The creatures - they didn’t always kill. Sometimes they _took_ people. They took nearly a hundred people that day. I still don’t know what they did with them.” Jack shakes himself, steeliness in his eyes “and ever since then, I made a promise to myself I’d never be that vulnerable again. That I’d never feel as scared and useless as I did on that day.”

“You were just a kid,” Ianto says, disbelievingly.

Jack shakes his head and looks down at his lap “I should have done _more_ . If I’d got to my dad earlier I could have _done something_ ,”

“You don’t know that, you can’t hold that over yourself forever,” Ianto says.

Jack looks haunted, his face etched with sadness, he looks _so guilty_.

“You weren’t there, you _don’t know_ ,” Jack snaps and Ianto shrinks a little.

“Maybe not, but I think I’ve had my fair share of guilt.” Ianto says quietly “you know the things I’ve done, the lies I’ve told, the people I’ve hurt. So, I know guilt. Jack. _Look at me_ ,”

Jack does, his face stony.

“If you let this fester, it’s going to rot you from the inside. _Forever_ ,” Ianto looks at him, properly looks at him “what happened to you is not worth an eternity of guilt, Jack, you have to let it go,”

The other man shakes his head resolutely “If I let it go, then what’s left?”

“Us. Torchwood.” Ianto firmly says “ _me.”_

A different kind of guilt forms in Jack’s eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the shame of selfishness blooming inside his chest.

“Don’t be sorry, Jack. Just know that it’s good to move on, forgive yourself. You need to learn to find new things to fight for.” Ianto presses “you’re surrounded by _good people_ , Jack. You have to remember that. We’re not going to win every battle, but you have to find something to fuel you. Something that won’t burn you out,”

“Has ever told you that you’re wise beyond your years, Ianto Jones?” Jack says, looking both sad and fond, cold tears drying on his cheeks.

Ianto smiles kindly “I think it’s been mentioned once or twice,”

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I've written far too much, so if you liked this just have a little trawl through my other stuff!
> 
> sherlockpond.tumblr.com
> 
> Stay safe out there x


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